Changing Lanes
by midnightabyss86
Summary: It's the summer between college and graduate school. Daria is back home and got asked out by Trent before she even had time to unpack. Daria still has a thing for her best friend's older brother and wants to see where this goes, and find out if they have any sort of a chance this time. Meanwhile, Quinn is also home from college and seeing Jamie in a whole new light.
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER:** This story is inspired by the characters from MTV's "Daria" (1997-2002). I do not own any rights to the television show, nor to any of the music created by Splendora (and other musicians/lyricists) for "Daria" referenced in this text. This is merely a work of (fan)fiction.

* * *

 **CHAPTER I**

" _I'm a teen 'oliday,  
_ _And it sucks!  
_ _I'm a teen 'oliday,  
_ _And it sucks!  
_ _I'm a teen 'oliday,  
_ _And it suuuucks!"_ _  
_

"Who did you say this was again?" Daria asked Trent, who was driving her back home after a night at the Lanes' house.

"Some guy who calls himself Guy Fawkes," replied Trent, his raspy voice still husky from sleep.

In her usual monotonous voice, she said, "I see. Guy Fawkes. Tell me, Trent, when you play his music backwards, does he tell you to remember the fifth of November?"

Trent laughed himself into a cough. "Good one, Daria. All I know is that Janey said his music makes her feel like Cleopatra."

"What?"

By the time they reached the Morgendorffer house, the music had almost grown on her. Taking off her seat belt, Daria said, "Thanks for the ride, Trent."

"Any time, Daria," he replied, his tone as mellow as it ever was. Before she stepped out of the Tank, Trent asked, "Hey, Daria?"

"Um, yeah?"

"What are you doing this Saturday?"

"Avoiding Quinn while she figures out how to match her shoes to the color of her date's eyes," she said. "Why?"

"I was wondering if you wanted to go out for pizza, or something."

"Um, sure. Tell Jane I'll be there."

"No."

"Excuse me?" Daria asked, her monotone only slightly altered.

"Janey's not coming."

"Why not? Um, did you and Jane get into a fight this morning?"

"No."

"Oh," said Daria, trailing off. "Then what?"

"It's just," began Trent, taking his eyes off her briefly to look at the road ahead of them before turning back to face her, "well, guys don't usually ask their sisters to tag along on their dates."

If it were possible to blush any harder, Daria was sure that she did. Trent noticed, and his smile softened. "D-date?" asked Daria.

"Yeah," said Trent, keeping his eyes locked on hers. "So, what do you say, Daria?"

"Um… okay," she replied, hopping out of the car door as quickly as possible. Before she closed it, Trent asked, "Pick you up at seven?"

"Seven's good," she said, her face bright and burning.

"Cool," he replied, nodding his head. He was in beat with the next song starting up on his cassette player. "See you then."

Daria watched as the car drove away and disappeared around the corner, then ran into the house. She closed the front door behind her and released a sigh of tension, slightly embarrassed that she had not gotten over her schoolgirl crush over her best friend's older brother after all these years. Daria was just glad that the only person who seemed to be aware that she was even back home from visiting Jane was her oblivious father.

"Damn, tuition bills!" yelled Jake, throwing his calculator onto the coffee table, which proceeded to blink a few times before promptly dying. "Gahhh!" Jake slumped forward, placing his head in his hands, muttering something about damn cheap products under his breath. He perked up when he saw Daria's combat boots. "Oh, hey, kiddo!"

"Hi, Dad," Daria replied, turning the TV on.

" _They drank the Kool-Aid. He punched through a wall! Carbonated cults next on 'Sick, Sad World.'"_ Jake cringed when he saw the Kool-Aid mascot's face. "Eww. No daughter of mine is going to join a cult! Right, Daria?!"

From behind they heard a familiar high-pitched voice on the phone. "And then Tiffany said that she _wouldn't_ join Dappa Dappa Olanda, because _they_ wouldn't accept her community service hours after she gave makeovers to the seeing-eye dogs they were distributing with that service club. … I _knooow!_ I know if _I_ were going to get a seeing-eye dog, I would want it to look as fabulous as me. You know, coordinating outfits and collars. That would be so _cute!_ So, anyway, now she's gonna pledge for Panda Ortega Bi, and that's fine, because they have the better parties anyway, and the _cutest_ Brothers. … No, of _course_ , Tiffany doesn't have an older brother. … No, Tiffany _doesn't_ have a sister either. Stacy-I," Quinn sighed, "I'll explain it to you later. Anyway, so about our shopping trip next week…"

Jake and Daria shared glances after Quinn went up the stairs to her room, shutting the door behind her.

"You were saying?" asked Daria. Jake just put his head in his hands again and sighed.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER II**

Daria was nearly finished unpacking her clothes and boxing up stuff she would no longer need from her dorm, when she heard her Nokia ringing. "Hey, Jane," she said, continuing with her chores. "What's new? You know, in the seventy-five minutes since I last saw you? By the way, did I leave my book at your house? I can't find it anywhere, and I wanted to do some research before starting today's writing."

Jane walked over and opened the door to her fridge. "Hmm, nothing," she said. "But, hey, who needs to study the Cold War when you can study human anatomy?" she asked suggestively.

"Excuse me?" asked Daria, dropping the shirt that she was folding.

"Oh, Daria, when are you doing to learn that you don't have to play coy with me, especially when it comes to my brother? The boy was giving you 'come hither' looks all last night, had a goofy grin when he came back from driving you home, and told me to shut it when I gave him a smirk to show I noticed. And just so you know, Jesse and Nick noticed, too."

"Oh god," said Daria, rubbing her temples.

"Hey, don't you use that kind of language with me, sister-in-law," said Jane, chuckling. "You know how it is with guys, especially when they've known each other as long as they have."

"Yeah, yeah," said Daria. She rolled her eyes and switched her phone to her other hand. "'Guys can always tell when another guy is into someone.'"

"Especially when that other guy has puked on the guy in a drunken stupor as often as they have," added Jane, as she walked into her room and picked up her trusty glue gun. As she continued working on her latest project, she asked, teasingly, "So _tell_ me, Daria, you little vixen, just what did you do to get Trent to notice you after all these years? Did you bat your eyelashes, drawing attention to how much _lovelier_ you grew by the day in his absence?"

"I told you once, and I'll tell you again," said Daria, "I still have that god awful bridesmaid dress, and I will not hesitate to kill you and bury you in that dress."

"Yeah, yeah," said Jane absent-mindedly. "Oh, hey, I found your book. _The Rise and Fall of the Soviet Empire..._ " She thumbed through the pages of text. "Looks like a light read."

"I'm thinking of bringing it the next time Quinn makes me cover her baby-sitting gig at the Gupty's."

"Hey, Daria?"

"Yes, Jane?"

"Why are my brother's initials scribbled in the margins?" she asked, snapping a Polaroid of the evidence.

"What?" asked Daria, dropping a box of her last semester's paperwork.

Jane gave a small laugh, shaking the printed photo. "Time to add this to my list of proof that you are, in fact, a member of the human race." Daria mumbled. "Hey, there's no need to be embarrassed. Remember? No need to play coy? I think it's _sweet._ "

"I think it's nauseating."


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER III**

"Oh, so _that's_ what you meant," said Stacy, who was looking through Quinn's closest for an outfit to borrow for tonight's party. "It certainly explains that weird look Jeffy gave me when I asked him what his Brothers were like growing up at that first fraternity party we went to after Sigmund Dude took him on as a pledge.-Wow, this dress is too cute! Mind if I try this on?"

"No, go ahead," said Quinn, giving her friend a sympathetic look. "How is Jeffy these days? I haven't seen him or Joey since spring break."

"They went that long without seeing you?" asking Stacy, poking her head from behind Quinn's decorative changing screen. "That's incredible…"

"I know, it's so sad," said Quinn, "but I really needed to focus on my classes if I wanted to transfer over to the business school.-Stacy, that looks great on you!"

"You really think so?" asked Stacy, smiling sheepishly.

"Uh huh! You should totally wear it to the fraternity party tonight!"

"Thanks, Quinn, you're the best," said Stacy. "You're really inspiring, too. I was so happy for you when you got the good news about the business school. I wish I were smart enough for that type of program…"

"What are you talking about, Stacy? Of _course_ you are," Quinn retorted.

"No, I'm not," said Stacy. "Sandi said-."

"Enough!" said Quinn, getting up from the bed to hug her friend. "Forget about what Sandi said. You _are_ smart enough. You're doing well in the community college business program. Why don't you study with me and Jamie? We're both doing that intensive online summer course to catch up, and we can help you study. I know he wouldn't mind another study partner, and if things go well, maybe you can look into transferring to our program for the spring."

"You really think so?" asked Stacy, tearing up.

"Absolutely!"

"Oh, Quinn, thank you!" said Stacy, sniffling.

"Anytime," said Quinn. She pulled away from her hug to get her friend some tissues. "Now, no more crying, you'll ruin your mascara."

Stacy sniffled again and smiled. "You're right. Thanks. Only…"

"Only what?" Quinn asked, returning to her bed to brush her hair in attempt to match the hairstyle of a model in a magazine she was flipping through.

"Well, won't I be… you know, third wheeling?"

"Third wheeling _who?_ " asked Quinn, confused.

"You and Jamie, of course," Stacy replied.

"Stacy, don't be _silly_ , you can't third wheel a boy who spent all of high school being part of a set," Quinn said, chuckling.

"But we're not in high school anymore," said Stacy. "And Jeffy, Joey, and Jamie aren't exactly a set these days. Unless we're all out together like old times. We're all trying to figure out where and how we belong, but you and Jamie seem to be forging that path together. Quinn, what do you think about Jamie?" she asked outright.

"Well, I-I-I don't really know," stammered Quinn. "He and I have some really good talks, and it's nice when he gets all serious and protective, and stuff, but I've never really thought about it."

"Maybe you should start thinking about it," Stacy suggested. "Like I said, we're not in high school anymore. We've grown up. Well," she said, with a small laugh, "except Upchuck."

" _Eww!_ " shrieked both girls together, thinking back to what he did during spring break.

"But, seriously, Quinn, give it some thought," said Stacy, fixing up her hair. "Having a study partner is nice, but so is having someone to walk you back to your dorm late at night, send you good morning and good night texts, and who cares about you and wants the best for you."

"But Jamie already _does_ that-. Oh," said Quinn, covering her mouth with her hands. Stacy gave her a knowing look. Quinn hoped she wasn't blushing too hard. "I see your point," she said, finally. "I'll think about. _Gawd,_ Stacy, when the hell did you get so insightful anyway?"

"Philosophy class!" replied Stacy, clasping her hands as she smiled proudly. "But, Quinn?" she asked, suddenly very serious again.

"Yeah?"

"I just have one more question. If you don't mind."

"What is it, Stacy?"

"Are fraternity brothers and sorority sisters the same thing as the Big Brothers Big Sisters of America?"


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER IV**

While Quinn and Stacy got ready for their party, Daria got ready for Melody Powers' next assassination behind the Iron Curtain. Her mind was so far lost in the tundras of the Soviet Union that Daria didn't hear her mother calling for her. Daria jumped when Helen handed her the cordless phone.

"Sorry to startle you when you're undercover in the shadows of a Kremlin fortress," said Helen, "but you have a phone call."

"Oh, that's okay," said Daria, taking the phone. "Is it Jane?"

"No, actually it's Trent," said Helen with a suggestive smile. As she closed the door, she reminded Daria not to use the phone for too long, as her father was expecting a call from a very important client that night. When Daria was sure that Helen was out of earshot distance, she answered, "Hey, Trent… What's up?"

"Hey, Daria," Trent replied. He opened the fridge, looked through, and said, "Hm, nothin'. How's the writing coming along? You still working on that espionage story?"

"Yeah," said Daria. "Speaking of, give me one second…" She cradled the phone between her neck and cheek as she typed out a few more sentences. Trent waited, listening to the fast clicks of Daria's keyboard as she found a suitable place to stop her writing. "Okay, you now have my undivided attention." Their talk drifted easily between topics, ranging from his music and her writing to Daria's upcoming graduate school plans.

"Daria!" called Quinn, not waiting for acknowledgement before coming into her sister's room. Quinn glanced around uneasily. "Wow, your room still looks like this?... Anyway, Dad needs the phone now. Only, I hope he doesn't take too long, because Sandi and Tiffany are supposed to call me and Stacy about where we're meeting for the party tonight, and I would _hate_ to be anything but fashionably late. I know Tiffany wouldn't try anything sabotage-y, or whatever, but you never know with Sandi. The last time I was _un_ fashionably late, she made me go out with Jimmy for a week, and he _frosts his tips,_ can you _imagine?_ Boy bands are _so_ 1997, and-"

"Um, Trent, I gotta go," said Daria, interrupting her sister, "before I lose any more brain cells."

Trent nodded, "I understand. That girl who lives with you sure sounds like a piece of work."

"Tell me about it," said Daria, ignoring Quinn's look of annoyance.

"'That girl who lives with you' has a name you know."

"Oops, uh, tell Quinn I said sorry," said Trent, surprised that his voiced managed to carry. "And, Daria?"

"Yes, Trent?"

"I'm really looking forward to our date tomorrow night. Oh, and tell Quinn not to do anything I wouldn't do," said Trent, coughing as he laughed at his own joke. "See ya."

"Yeah, um, bye, Trent," Daria managed. She handed the phone to Quinn. "Tell me you didn't hear any of that."

"Oh, Daria!" Quinn exclaimed. "I always knew this day would come, and now that it has, I feel so… serene." Anything but serenely, she asked, "What are you going to wear? Where are you going? Do you want me to help you with your-?"

"Hold it right there, Cher Horowitz-" said Daria.

"Wear your blue sweater," Quinn offered, walking out of the room with the phone. "Now that you can actually _see_ your eyes behind your thinner frames, it'll really bring out their dark blue color. Bye!"

Daria turned back to her computer to continue her story, but the snow behind the Iron Curtain seemed to have thawed. She decided to put aside her writing for the night. Feeling tired, she took off her glasses and rubbed the space between her eyes. She looked at her frames for a minute and cleaned her lenses. When Daria felt satisfied, she put her glasses back on and turned to her closet, setting aside her blue sweater for tomorrow night.


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER V**

"Oh, the Big Brothers and Sisters of America sound _nothing_ like the ones you meet in college," said Stacy, laughing at her own expense. "That sounds really nice what they do though. The kids must really appreciate it. Especially if they get paired up with somebody cute! Maybe _I_ should volunteer," pondered Stacy.

"You should _totally_ do it!" encouraged Quinn. "Not only would you be giving back, but it'll look great on your transfer application and resume."

The girls continued their conversation as they drove to the local pizza place, where they coordinated to meet up with the former Fashion Club members before the party. One of the Three J's would drive them all to the frat house once Joey joined them after his last final. While waiting for the group to arrive, the girls ordered their usual salads with oil and vinegar on the side and a diet soda. Sandi and Tiffany joined them shortly after the food arrived and placed orders for themselves.

"I sure hope the boys don't take much longer," said Sandi, removing the sliced cheese from her salad. "I mean, how hard could computer science be? Everybody knows that the key to fixing computer problems is to try turning it off then on again."

"Yeah, but doesn't computer science involve a lot of coding, and website and program design?" said Quinn. "I remember when Joey helped me put together my old fashion blog. That looked pretty complicated."

"Desiiiiiiiggnnnn?" asked Tiffany in her usual drawl. "Maayybee we should aask Jooeyy to jooinn the Fasshionn Cluuub."

"Tiffany, dear, the Fashion Club formally disbanded four years ago," Sandi reminded her. "And as much as we would like to enjoy the glories of the past and our esteemed fashion choices and accessories, while conveniently forgetting about fashion don'ts-which we _never_ committed-" The girl all murmured in agreement, thinking back in horror to the times of tube tops, scrunchies, and platform jellies. "-we must remember to look forward to the future. Towards the rise of a fashion empire. Unless _Quinn_ thinks _that_ sounds too _complicated._ "

"What? Sandi, I would _never_ diminish _your_ dream," said Quinn, tired of this familiar exchange. "I only meant that without _your_ kind of drive, realizing your actuality by conceptualizing your dreams into a reality _could_ be considered complicated. But not for _you_ , Sandi, because you know very well what you want."

"Driiiivee?" asked a confused Tiffany. "Buuuuttt Saandi juust goot aa neew caarr."

"You did?" asked a familiar voice. "That's cool! When are you going to show us your new ride?" Jeffy, Joey, and Jamie finally arrived. After devouring an entire pizza pie, the group was ready to head over to the party. Jamie turned out to be the J driving that night, giving highest priority to Quinn for shotgun. As the rest of the group maneuvered into the back rows, Sandi grumbled, " _Gee,_ Quinn, I hope you won't be _too_ lonely sitting up front without the _rest_ of us."

"What? Of _course_ not, Sandi," said Quinn. "I only wish _I_ could be sitting with the rest of you, my friends, but then _who_ would keep _Jamie_ company?"

"Are you saying that I am not a good hostess?" Sandi accused. "That I need _help_ , or something?"

"Not at _all_ , Sandi. I just mean that you're _so_ good at being a good hostess that _I_ want to try out the hosting skills I learned from _you_ on Jamie."

"Oh, Quinn, that's so thoughtful of you to be thinking of Sandi and of others," said Stacy, supporting her friend. "That must come in such handy for the Big Brothers and Big Sisters we were talking about before! With you looking out for all of us, you'd be a natural at a program like that. No wonder people say that Big Brother is always watching!"


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER VI**

"I'm just saying that if _I_ were your consultant, I'd give your line something a bit more… edgy! Like _The Elegante,_ " said Jake, throwing around his fall-back pitch to his latest client. "Uh huh," he replied back enthusiastically to the client on the phone. "Uh huh. Well, _sure_! See you Thursday!"

"How did the pitch go?" asked Helen, who was reviewing case files across the coffee table from him.

"It went great!" Jake exclaimed. "I really showed my clients that I, Jake Morgendorffer, am big, strong, and tough!" Helen responded with a tired glance. Jake deflated and said, "I told my clients that they were right and I was wrong." He sighed and rested his head in his hand, mumbling about damn lousy motel chains under his breath.

Still looking at her file, Helen said, "I'm sure if you just give them a little more time, they'll see what a _wonderful_ consultant you would make for them. All you have to do is get off your tookis and keep showing initiative. You know, when _Quinn_ has a-" Helen looked up from her file, as if coming out of long forgotten dream. Her eyes wide, she said, " _Oh,_ no, Morgendorffer. Don't you _dare_ go down that road again…"

"What road?" asked Jake, looking up at his wife. "Does some construction company need a consultant? 'Cause ol' Jakey's just _perfect_ for the job! He's cool, he's tough, he's… _elegante…_ " He cocked an eyebrow and held a martini glass in his hand that wasn't there.

Helen rubbed her temples. "Keep it together, Morgendorffer...Anyway, Jake, there's something that I wanted to talk to you about."

"Talk?" asked Jake, looking slightly horrified when Helen placed her files aside. "Um, honey, actually, I _just_ remembered that I had a chore to do, all the way at the other end of the-"

"Jake, _sit down,_ " said Helen, tugging on her husband's suit jacket. "You're not getting out of the conversation this time. It's about Daria."

"Daria?" asked Jake. "It's not another damn tuition bill, is it, Helen? There's only so many calculations a man can take! Oh, _god_ , why didn't I go into accounting like Mother asked? The girls are _too young_ for this much debt."

"Jake, pull yourself together!" said Helen. "It's not about the tuition. Although, I agree with you there…"

"Phew," said Jake with a sigh. "Then what is it?"

"It's about Trent, Jane's older brother."

"Oh, Trent, yeah! Good kid!" said Jake. "Very cool, very… _relaxed._ It's that beard of his, very manly. Maybe I should grow a beard…" he said while stroking his chin, his imagination wandering back to his youth in the '70s.

" _Jake,_ " said Helen sternly. "I need you to focus."

"Sorry," Jake squeaked. There was a pause. "So, what were we talking about?"

"About _Trent,_ " said Helen, looking up at the stairway to check that the girls did not overhear her.

"Right, Trent! Good kid!"

"Jakey, he's not a kid anymore," said Helen, "and neither is Daria."

"She's not?... I mean, of course she's not!" he added, seeing Helen's glare. "Aw, shucks, but no matter how old she gets, or however many walls she puts up, she'll always be Daddy's little girl."

"Um, yes. Of course. Well, I'm glad to hear it, Jakey, but that doesn't mean she won't grow up," Helen reminded him. "And she has, Jakey. She's grown up into a fine, beautiful, intelligent young woman."

"She sure has," said Jake. "But, um, Helen, what does this have to do with Trent?"

"Jakey, do you remember back when Daria was in high school, when she had her little crush on him?"

" _She did?_ "

"Jake!"

"I'm sorry, I didn't know…" said Jake, hiding from his wife behind a throw pillow. "Wait a minute, how _old_ is he?"

"I'm not sure," said Helen, "but I would think he's around twenty-five or twenty-seven by now."

" _TWENTY-SEVEN?!_ Gahhh!" Jake exclaimed, bursting a blood vessel.

"Jake, would you _please_ calm down? Daria might hear you," Helen cautioned.

"My little girl," said Jake, "going out with some who's… who's…"

"Who's what?" asked Helen worriedly.

Jake glared at Helen, looking half-deranged with his swollen eyes glowing red with blood. One eye twitched. He raised the brow of his opposite eye, and said, " _Who's almost thirty._ "

Helen turned her head to look at a camera that wasn't there, as Jake rested his head on his hands. "My little girl," he mumbled. Helen turned back to her husband, walked over to his chair to rub his back, and said, "I realize the age gap is a little less than ideal when you put it that way, but they're both grown adults, and I think he likes her, Jakey. A lot. And I can tell she still likes him very much, so we have to keep an open mind about this if or whenever something happens. And I think something might."

"What makes you say that?" Jake asked, turning his head to look up at his wife.

"He called her tonight," Helen answered. "Quinn found out about their date when she went to get the phone before your conference call."

"I'm always the last to know," bemoaned Jake. "I told you, Helen, I'm no good at this parenting crap."

"Oh, Jakey," said Helen, wrapping her arms around her husband's shoulders. "We all know you try your best, and the girls and I love you for it.

"You really mean that?" asked Jake.

"Yes, sweetie," said Helen, kissing her husband atop his tuft of brown hair, now showing signs of graying. Jake took one of her hands in his and kissed it. "Just keep loving them, Jakey. Try to guide them. Be there for them. It's all either one of us can do. But no matter what-"

"She'll always be my little girl," said Jake.


	7. Chapter 7 - Reupload

**Author's Note:** Hello, Reader. Sorry to interrupt the story. I was going through edits I've made over the last few days, and I saw that Chapter VIII was uploaded twice by mistake. I had a lot of trouble trying to correct this one edit that, of course, wouldn't go through (what a sick, sad world we live in...), so I decided to just reupload the chapter altogether. If anything appears incorrect or out of order, please feel free to let me know! Thanks for your patience, and I hope you're enjoying the story! ^_^

* * *

 **CHAPTER VII**

" _La la la la la"_

Quinn was dancing with her friends, feeling lost and energized in a crowd of her peers, as the band played beside the deck of the frat house. The summer haze was thick. The scent of sweat and bodies, alcohol and chlorine filled the air.

 _Turn the sun down  
_ _Turn the sun down  
_ _Turn the sun down_ _  
_

Dozens of shirtless and bikini clad college students treated the last night of finals as a revolution and a victory, exchanging carefree looks and saliva like peace treaties.

" _Hey!"_

There was a ruckus from the pool. Quinn saw a guy in boat shoes chase a girl in a sarong around by the edge of the water. When he caught up to her, he picked her up from behind, carried her bridal style, and threatened to toss her into the pool.

" _Oh, no! Don't say surf's up  
_ _I don't hang ten, in fact I hang none  
_ _Dig the undertow  
_ _Hurry up and row"_

Quinn laughed when by an unfortunate twist of fate, both the boy and the girl fell into the pool together, and laughed harder still when she saw who it was.

"Ooooh, Kevvy! How could you?" Brittany splashed Kevin angrily.

"But, babe!-H-hey! Cut it out!" Kevin exclaimed, failing to block himself from Brittany's wrath.

"I could have had my new pink Razr in my bag! _Then_ what would have happened?"

"Babe! I would have gotten you a new one. You can buy them for a pack of twelve at the Payday warehouse store."

" _Maybe, someone could turn down the sun, hey!  
_ _Turn the sun down  
_ _Turn the sun down  
_ _Turn the sun down"_

The former Fashion Club members and the Three J's naturally started pairing up. Stacy with Jeffy and Tiffany with Joey, leaving Quinn with Jamie. He danced behind her with his hands resting lightly on her hips. One of her hands was on his, while her other drifted to the side of his neck. Jamie crouched down slightly to give her easier access and pushed aside strands of her long red hair that were flying into her face. Jamie kissed her on the cheek. Despite the heat, Quinn shivered slightly when she felt his hot breath by her ear.

" _Where's Jaws when you need him?  
_ _A tsunami would just be too grim"  
_

" _Gee_ , Quinn, are you alright?" asked Sandi, returning with drinks. "You're so red, you look like you've been _exercising_." _  
_

"What?" asked a startled Quinn, breaking away from Jamie. "Don't be silly, Sandi. I would never."

Sandi stepped in Jamie's direction. " _Perhaps_ you need to take a break," she said, handing Quinn her drink.

" _Hey, don't block my shade  
_ _Hold the lemonade"_

As she wrapped her arms round Jamie's neck to dance with him, she suggested Quinn visit the powder room, warning her of the startling and primitive conditions the boys of Melta Chai Tea left it in that semester. "The line's pretty long though, so you might be a while. But don't worry, I'm sure we will have _plenty_ of fun without you in the meantime."

"Right," said Quinn, becoming more flustered as Sandi started dancing with Jamie. "Of course. Thanks, Sandi. I'll, uh, I'll be right back."

She furrowed her brow as she walked towards the frat house. Unbeknownst to her, Jamie stared at her when she left him to go inside to Sandi's annoyance, who led their dance to turn him away from Quinn's direction.

" _Maybe, someone could turn down the sun  
_ _Turn the sun down  
_ _Turn the sun down  
_ _Turn the sun down  
_ _Turn the sun down"_


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER VIII**

"YOO HOO! _SIS!"_

"Agh!" Quinn woke up with a fright. Her head was throbbing. The sunlight pouring through her bedroom window hurt her eyes. "Oh, the humanity…" she said, as she rubbed her eyes.

"Oh, gee. Did I wake you?" asked Daria, when her sister glared up at her. "I guess that means you haven't been murdered. Well, that's good."

"Daria, what do you want?" asked Quinn, not yet ready to deal with her sister's dry humor.

"You've got a phone call," replied Daria. "It's Jamie. He couldn't reach you on your cell and wanted to make sure you were feeling alright this morning after last night's _rager._ " She handed Quinn the phone, who covered the speaker side in a hurry.

"Oh, gawd, what do Mom and Dad know?" asked Quinn. "Did they see me? Tell me I didn't do anything stupid in front of them."

"Define 'stupid.'"

" _Daria!"_ Quinn hissed, looking beyond her sister to make sure their mother wasn't coming in to lecture her about responsibility.

"Relax. I think you're in the clear. The ungodly hour you got in was _just_ late enough that Mom and Dad didn't wait up for you," Daria assured. "Besides, Mom was busy most of the night with her case files, and Dad went to bed after his third martini after taking a stroll down 'Memory Road.'"

"I don't know whether to be relieved or concerned about Dad's heart... " muttered Quinn. "Anyway, I've left Jamie waiting long enough. I'll meet you downstairs for coffee in a little bit."

"Don't forget about the _eggs_ and crispy _bacon_ ," Daria taunted, chuckling when Quinn's face dropped and turned a light shade of green. Daria waved behind her, closed the door, and put on the Keurig.

When Quinn's bout of nausea passed, she answered the phone. "Jamie? Hi, sorry to keep you waiting so long. How are you?"

"I'm pretty good," answered Jamie. "How are you feeling? I got worried when you didn't answer your cell."

"That is _so_ sweet, Jamie," Quinn replied. "I'm sorry to have worried you though. Despite Daria's attempt, I'm alright. Was I really out of it when we got back home?"

"Nah, nothing you couldn't handle," assured Jamie. "Joey was the worst, as usual. He kept hugging me and Jeffy, and telling us how much he loved our 'bromance'… Quinn, what's a bromance? Do I need to break up with Joey? 'Cause he's not my type, and I wouldn't want to hurt him. He's been such a good friend over the years."

Quinn laughed lightly and explained, "No, Jamie, you don't have anything to worry about. He just means that he appreciates your friendship, so it sounds like the bromance is mutual."

"Oh," Jamie replied. "That's cool. I-I think…"

"It is, don't worry," Quinn said with a smile. "Although, now that you mention it, you, Joey, and Jeffy _would_ make a great couple," she teased. "Or is it a triple?"

"Quinn, c'mon," said Jamie. "Be serious."

" _Oh_ , but I _am_ ," she continued, smirking. "It'd bring a whole new meaning to Alpha Tri Alpha."

"Oh, you're bad," laughed Jamie. "I don't know whose influence to blame more: Sandi's or your sister's."

"Oh, definitely Daria's. If Sandi were here, she probably would have said something like, ' _Gee,_ Quinn, I _hope_ you aren't suggesting that the guys _completely_ give up on dating. _Some_ of us would still like to have _someone_ to drive us to parties."

"That sounded just like her," replied a startled Jamie. "But, uh, Quinn, that's not really how you girls think of us, right?"

"No, of _course_ not, Jamie! I would _never_ try to imply that. I'm sorry."

"It's alright," Jamie replied.

"I mean, you guys are some of the greatest friends I've ever had," continued Quinn. "You three and the girls were the greatest things about moving to Lawndale. I don't know what I would have done without you."

"Oh," replied Jamie, sounding crestfallen. "Well, that's nice, I guess."

"Well, of course it is," Quinn replied, slightly worried. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"Quinn, when you think of me, do you still think of me with Joey and Jeffy? Or, do you just think of me?" asked Jamie with hesitation.

"Well, you guys _were_ inseparable for so long…"

"I see," Jamie replied. A heavy pause hung between them.

"Jamie, did I say something wrong?" asked Quinn with worry.

"No, you didn't. I'm just being stupid," said Jamie with a chuckle that stabbed Quinn in the heart.

"Jamie, you're not-"

"Hey, uh, Quinn, I gotta go."

"Okay… Are we still on to study tomorrow? Stacy wanted to join us by the way. She's thinking about transferring into our program, and I offered to help her out."

"Yeah, of course," replied Jamie. "I'll pick you and Stacy up after work. See you tomorrow, Quinn. Bye." The phone clicked.

Quinn hung up the cordless and plopped down to her bed. She wrapped her arms around a throw pillow and turned to her side to check her phone, which was charging on her nightstand. She had a voicemail and a text from Jamie. She listened first to his voicemail of him checking in on her, as he always did after a night out to make sure she was okay and asking her to call him back so he wouldn't worry. The message he had sent was a picture of the two of them cheek to cheek, Jamie's strong arms hugging Quinn from behind with her hands on his. She hugged her pillow tighter. Her breath caught in her throat. She stared at the picture for a long time and saved it to her phone, hoping that the next time she looked at it the weight in her chest wouldn't hurt so much.


	9. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER IX**

 _"A couple of best friends sharing shots… of gunfire! Vice Presidential Gunplay_ next _on 'Sick, Sad World!'"_

Jane clicked off the TV, when she heard a knock on the door. "Yo!" she called, allowing Trent into her room. Jane raised her brow quizzically, when she saw a pair of pants in his left hand. "Should I ask? Better yet, should you tell? I'm seeing more than should be seen."

"I'll say!" chirped Penny's bird, which was perched on her shoulder as she passed through the hallway to her room.

"I was looking for the iron," Trent explained. "I'm getting ready for my date with Daria."

"Your date's not for another four hours,"said Jane skeptically, as she walked over to her closet. "Here, I was using it for an art project."

"Thanks," he replied, taking the item, knowing better than to ask questions. "I just wanted to make sure I wasn't late."

"Daria's known you for years, she knows what you're like," said Jane, "and she still likes you for it."

"Yeah," said Trent, his body drooped in his usual slouch. "I never understood why though." The iron and trousers in his hands fell to his sides. "I don't even understand why she agreed to go out with me now."

"Oh, even the brooding, intellectual youth loves an older musician," said Jane, raising an eyebrow. "But, Trent, if you wanted Daria to be a groupie, writing her a vague, non-descript song about how she doesn't know that her perfect imperfections make her beautiful and perfect to you probably would have been easier."

"Come on, Janey. Be serious," said Trent. "This is Daria we're talking about." He turned his gaze away from his sister. "She deserves better than that."

Jane cocked an eyebrow in surprise. She stared in silence at her older brother losing his cool in front of her for the first time in many years. She furrowed her brow and turned to follow his gaze until finally he locked eyes with her again. His eyes widened slightly then softened. "Then let yourself become somebody who could deserve her." Trent gasped lowly, almost inaudibly. Jane walked back over to her bed and pretended not to hear as she turned the TV back on. "Trent, you know you have my support in this. I would personally love for things to work out between you and Daria. You're my brother, and she's my best friend. I couldn't ask for a more perfect combination, even if that technically means being related to Quinn and to Aunt Rita…" Jane muttered, ignoring Trent's stutters of confusion. "But if things don't happen to work out, I'm glad you two are finally going to know without having to tiptoe around the age difference this time." Trent hoped the light of the TV cancelled out the flush burning his cheeks. "Yeah," said Jane, "I knew about all of that, and don't pretend like you didn't know that I saw right through both of you. The thing is, part of seeing through Daria at that time meant knowing that there were walls she wouldn't let even me through." She turned to look at her brother. "Whatever happens, Trent, just don't give her a reason to put those walls back up."

"I wouldn't do anything to deliberately hurt her, Janey," he replied.

"I know you wouldn't, Trent. And that's the kind of thing she deserves." Jane's smile was sad but encouraging. "But, Trent, do yourself a favor and find out what you deserve, too," she said, pointing towards her brother. "There's no need to talk about yourself like you do, and I'm sure Daria would agree with me.

Just then Wind flew into Jane's room, also without pants on. "Jane! Trent! Thank goodness you're here!" he said on the verge of tears. "You gotta help me! Denise came home early and caught me with Mrs. Pinciotti from that swingers club we're in, and now she thinks I'm cheating on her and locked me out of the house!"

"You came here all the way from your house dressed like that?" asked Trent.

"You gotta help me!"

"Doesn't anybody in this town wear pants anymore?" lamented Jane, turning back to the TV.


	10. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER X**

The clock on the mantel ticked as the minutes passed, dragging along the lulls of silence with it into prolonged torture. Somebody coughed. Helen, Jake, and Trent were sitting in the Morgendorffer living room. Trent was early for their date, making Daria late, as Quinn still wasn't done with the no-makeup makeup look she insisted on doing for her sister for her date.

Helen decided it was up to her to break the silence. "So, Trent..."

" _Hold_ still, _Daria!"_ Quinn exclaimed. The three hunched their shoulders in surprise as they heard the sound of a nail drill in the distance screeching over Daria's cries and grumbles of resistance.

"Maybe I came at a bad time," said Trent. "If you want, I can come later. It might make it seem like I was on time."

" _No,_ Trent, don't be _silly,_ " said Helen. "Quinn just gets a little, um, enthusiastic about things like this. I'm sure Daria will be down in just a few minutes. _Besides_ , now this gives us the chance to get reacquainted."

"Yeah, reacquainted!" chimed in Jake. "So tell me, Trent, old boy- _Wait_. _Just how old_ are _you anyway?"_

" _Jake…"_ groaned his wife. "We talked about this."

"Talk-smalk! A father has the right to know, damnit!" said Jake, flailing his arms down like a child. "You understand, don't you Trent?" he pleaded.

Trent nodded in reply. "It's cool. I guess if I were in your shoes, I would want to know something like that. I'm, uh, twenty-seven, I think."

"You think?" asked Helen, blinking in surprise.

"My parents were in Mexico studying the Uxmal pyramid for their painting, when I was born. They, uh, got a little too caught up in the history of it, and insisted on sticking to the Mayan calendar when they were down there. Only problem was that they didn't speak the language, so they couldn't talk to anybody to figure out how the calendar actually works. We just celebrate my birthday in September."

"Oh, my," said Helen, covering her mouth in shock.

Trent shrugged a shoulder. "It's cool. Provided plenty of material for my music when I first picked up guitar."

"Oh, that's that's _right_ , you're in a band," said Helen, relieved to change the topic. "Mystik Spiral, is it?"

"Yeah, but we're thinking of changing the name."

"You know, Trent, _I_ was in a band once! Back at the old military school!" said Jake, his wife's eyes glossing over.

"Really?" asked Trent. Intrigued, he leaned forward slightly. "What kind of music did you play?"

"Showtunes, mah man. Showtunes," replied Jake, squinting in satisfaction as he traveled down Memory Road.

"No kidding?" said Trent. "Stuff like _Hair_?"

"Gilbert & Sullivan," said Jake. "I wrote for the school musical! Only Corporal Ellenbogen told me that the song I wrote stank! Busy-body teacher can dig a foxhole. That makes him an expert on showtunes? I don't think so, damn it!"

"Um."

"I bet if it wasn't for Ellenbogen, I might be a Broadway lyricist. I could write songs for _Cats._ I could write songs for dogs!"

"Why don't you come by the garage and show me your music sometime? I think Jesse could give you some helpful feedback."

" _Really?!"_ asked Jake and Helen in unison.

Trent nodded. "Really. He enjoys musical comedy. He used to say he liked it because chicks dig it, or something, but it eventually turned into a genuine, unironic interest. He's even tried convincing Spiral to learn some of the music from _North Pacific_ , so we could expand our gigs to include the old folks' home." Trent coughed as he laughed.

"The nursing home around the corner?" asked Helen. "Jakey, isn't that where Daria used to volunteer? I believe she read to the residents there."

"Hmm," said Trent, leaning back, reconsidering his position on learning Gilbert & Sullivan.

"Hey, Trent," said Daria.

"Hey, Da-Whoaa," said Trent standing up. "I mean… uh."

Quinn was watching from the top of the stairwell, clenched her fist, and said a quiet, celebratory, " _Yes!"_ before going back to her room to call Stacy.

"Um, it's not too much, is it?" asked Daria, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and flattery. "I told Quinn not to go overboard."

"No, it's just right," said Trent, walking towards her. "You look beautiful."

Daria's cheeks flushed a shade darker. "Thanks, Trent. You look nice, too." She put a hand to her temple briefly, when she realized her parents were still in the room.

"Have a good time, sweetie, and don't stay out too late," said Helen, guiding her husband out of the room with her.

"See ya later, kiddo!" Jake called, as he walked out of the room with a short wave. Speaking to Helen, Jake asked excitedly, "Do you really think he'll look at my music?"

"Jake…"

The couple turned back to one another and smiled. Trent put his arm Daria shoulders, and walked her to his car. Quinn grinned as she watched her sister drive off with Trent, Stacy squealing with shared excitement as they continued their phone call.


	11. Chapter 11

**CHAPTER XI**

"Um, I hope my parents didn't give you the third degree while you were waiting for me," said Daria, as she and Trent drove out of her neighborhood. "I would have been down sooner, but once Quinn saw that the only shoes of mine that she could match to your eyes were my combat boots, there was no stopping her."

Trent let out a light chuckle. "Yeah. Little sisters can be a pain sometimes. I'm glad I lucked out with Janey though."

"Yeah, you definitely did," Daria agreed. "You and Jane are really lucky to have each other. She missed you a lot when we were in Boston."

"Really?" asked Trent, glancing over to look at Daria before focusing back on the road. He found it hard not to sneak glances at her after that.

"Yeah. But don't tell her I said that. She'd deny everything, kill me, then bury me in my old bridesmaids dress. And that would be a fate worse than death."

"When were you a bridesmaid?" asked Trent, smirking.

"Back in high school, when my cousin Erin got married over a double-standard."

Trent nodded. "I could see that. Do they seem happy, at least?"

"Well, if by 'happy' you mean they share a growing resentment for loss of fleeting youth while her husband Brian bounces from one government job to the next, causing Erin to take a part-time job against her will just to make ends meet and pay off their second mortgage, all the while basically raising the kids on her own, then yes. They're very happy."

Trent coughed violently. "You're funny, Daria." When he continued to cough, Daria asked if he was alright. "You're beginning to remind me of my dad when he pops a blood vessel talking about military school." When he caught his breath again, Trent assured he was fine. "Speaking of my dad," continued Daria, "I hope you didn't mind having had to sit through one of his harrowing retellings of his repressed childhood traumas and lifelong resentments. I understand him, but I know it can be a bit much to non-relatives."

"Don't worry about it, Daria, your dad's cool," said Trent.

Daria raised an eyebrow in confusion. "'Cool'? Are you and I talking about the same person? The one who wrote jingoistic music to a tune that sounds suspiciously like the theme song to _Barney the Dinosaur_?"

Trent grinned widely. "Well, I don't know about that, but you gotta respect him. I mean, here's a guy who day in and day out had to deal the The Man for years at a school that tried to break him and crush his individuality so that he could become a war-mongering puppet and kill the enemy, whoever it may happen to be. But instead, he became a peace-loving counterculturalist against the wishes of the village that raised him." Daria stared, fixated on Trent. "He may be resentful or bitter for becoming another brick in the Wall, but at least he's straightforward and doesn't pretend that the society that raised him knew what was best. He probably thinks he's lost himself or what he once took action against, but he rebels everyday by succeeding at owning his own business, keeping up with his songwriting, raising daughters to think for themselves..." Trent turned to glance at Daria, surprised to see the intensity of her gaze. His breath caught. He could feel his ears turning red. Trent turned his attention back to the road, finding it harder to focus on anything but Daria's dark doe eyes. "Well, that's what I think anyway. So I don't mind his stories. I think it's cool he keeps his outlet, even if it involves some Yankee doodle dandy."

"I never thought about it like that before," said Daria. "I guess he is kind of cool. Only…"

"Only what?"

"Only never tell my dad I said that, because I would hate to have to bury you in my bridesmaid dress, too."

Trent coughed as he laughed. "That _would_ be a shame. I happen to like being alive. Besides, that dress could never look as good on me as it does on you."

"It's blue taffeta. It couldn't look good on anyone. Especially not me. Everyone and their mother told me so at the time."

Trent shrugged. "Maybe not. But blue definitely looks good on you."

He stole another glance at Daria. The two locked eyes and shared small, shy smiles. Trent broke away first with reluctance to focus on the road, but Daria's stare lingered. After a few seconds she looked down at her lap, and tucked her long, thick hair behind her ear. She reminded herself to thank Quinn later.


	12. Chapter 12

**CHAPTER XII**

Daria had been so engrossed in her conversation with Trent that she did not notice how far they had driven, until they reached the outskirts of town.

"I thought we were going out for pizza?" Daria asked. "Isn't this the way into the city?"

"Change of plans," said Trent.

"Do I get a hint?" Daria asked when Trent explained no further.

"Let's not be fastidious about the details," Trent said with a sly smile. "I think you'll really like where we're going."

Daria's curiosity grew as they passed through to the tunnel into Mirage, the main city in the area known for its artistic scene. Daria had never been there, but had heard Quinn complain enough times about its contribution to the grunge scene started in Seattle. Daria saw signs of grunge leftover from the days of Nirvana, to be sure, and anxiously entertained the possibility that Trent was taking her to see the Harpies play.

Eventually the grunge scene faded. Graffiti and punk dive bar lines were exchanged for restaurants in languages familiar and foreign. Trent smiled to himself the moment he saw the Daria's nervous energy spark an inner flame of curiosity and fascination once the village signs read in Polish, Hungarian, and Russian. Band posters and audition flyers had been replaced with the flags of Eastern Europe, each hung proudly by families in remembrance of a harsh, sweet, and bitter homeland they would bless until they died. As they walked through the neighborhood, Daria soaked in the vibrant blues and yellows of the store signs, and the delicately intricate patterns of shawls worn by the older, more traditional generations of women. Daria was reminded that they were near the sea, when they reached the open market. The air was heavy with the scent of salt, adding flavor to the scents of the various meats, soups, and fresh produce being sold.

Daria jumped slightly when she felt someone take her hand. "It's pretty clean, Daria," said Trent. Confused, she looked down. Trent's hand was laced with hers. "Oh," replied Daria, blushing profusely. "Sorry, I guess I just got lost in all of this."

"Good," replied Trent, squeezing her hand tighter. "I wanted you to be. Let's not lose each other in this crowd though. There's more people still out than I thought there'd be." Daria heart beat quickly, as she let Trent guide her through the market square. His hand was rough with callouses, and warmer than she ever thought it'd be. She smiled when Trent began to absent-mindedly graze his thumb along her knuckles as they walked the blocks to their destination. Trent wrapped his arm around Daria's waist, as they walked down the steps into a hidden Russian dive bar and cafe. A single balalaika could be heard over the low murmurs of crowd, accompanied by a clarinet. The two got a table near the small stage as the bards continued their song.

 _On a rugged cliff, the very edge, above the endless chasm_

 _I keep lashing at my horses with my whip clenched in a spasm_

 _But the air is growing thinner, I am gasping, drowning, crying_

 _I can sense with horrid wonder, I am vanishing, I'm dying..._

The bard sang in his native Russian, his guttural voice heavy with the weight of the burden of memories of a distant land. He released years of generational anger through the strings of his instrument, anger which softened when the clarinetist comforted him with her mournful, hopeful song. Halfway through the piece, the balalaika player lost the anger in his voice altogether, giving way to the clarinetist. Sadness haunted her voice.

 _We have made it. Right on time, God has left us with few choices_

 _But then why are the angels singing with such fiendish scolding voices,_

 _Or is that the horse bell ringing in a frenzy drenched with tears,_

 _Or am I the one who's screaming for my horses to shift gears?_

Daria looked to Trent, who was completely engrossed in the performance. She saw his left hand moving, mimicking the chords used by the bard, as if committing them to his memory. From a great sadness grew a great hope in the bard's voice, as her male counterpart joined in her song.

 _Slow your gallop, oh my horses! Slow your gallop, I say!_

 _Don't you listen to my stinging whip!_

 _But the horses I was given, stubborn, and so unforgiving,_

 _Can't comprehend the life I'm living, at least let me finish singing…_

Daria reflected on how much Trent had changed. There was something much more serious about him now. She often wondered how he felt, alone in Casa Lane, while she and Jane were together in Boston. The Lanes were a paradoxical family, one so large but so scattered. She wondered about what Trent could never say about his family. Jane was a bit more honest about her resentment against her parents, who were present and overwhelming in her life as often as they disappeared from it, but the only times she had ever seen Trent that honest were when he was on the stage. She wondered if Trent would ever be that honest with her.

As the music stopped, Trent's hand found hers again. Daria wasn't startled by it this time.

* * *

Lyrical translation of "Fastidious Horses" (also often translated as "Capricious Horses") by Vladimir Vysotsky provided by Kulichki and LyricsTranslate.


	13. Chapter 13

**CHAPTER XIII**

After the set ended and the cafe's regular hired band set up to play, Trent went to buy food and get some tea from the samovar. "How did you find this place?" asked Daria when returned, taking a sip of her tea. "This doesn't seem like your usual scene."

"I found it wandering around after a Mystik Spiral gig," Trent explained. "After Janey left for college for the spring, the band decided it was time to go on the road and see what opportunities the city had to offer. We were booking a few gigs here and there, but we ultimately decided to come back to Lawndale. Janey was about to come back home from Boston, anyway, so it was good timing."

"I'm sorry it didn't work out," said Daria. "I always hoped you guys would make it."

"Thanks," Trent replied, "but I guess it was time to move on."

"So what are you guys planning to do now?"

"Well, the other guys seem to be gravitating towards participating in a local choir for now, but I'm sure Jesse will open up a candle shop at some point."

"And you?"

Trent leaned back in his seat and looked up at the ceiling. "Well, right now I'm giving lessons at a friend's guitar shop, but I'm still figuring out a long-term plan." He felt his ears turning red. "Um, what about you? You said you're going to graduate school this fall."

"Yeah, for creative writing," said Daria. "I'm hoping the program will help me finish my novel, and give me more writing experience to be a journalist."

"You can do it, Daria," Trent said firmly. "You've got what it takes to wake people up to what's really important."

"Um, thanks, Trent," said Daria, blushing slightly. "I hope so, but I think what's more likely is that I'll get outraged, my readers will get outraged, and nothing will happen, since I'll probably be writing to the converted."

Trent shrugged. "In the beginning, sure, but who knows what could happen later. You've got a pretty unique, pungent point of view, Daria, and more people deserve to know it."

The two talked and listened to the folk group performing for the remainder of the night, unaware of the disappearing couples around them, until the owner finally informed them that they were closing. They took a detour on the way to Trent's car, spotting a way to the shoreline they had missed when the market was still open. They passed some fishermen and families returning from the docks. The ocean water felt cold but refreshing. Trent and Daria walked for a long while, hand-in-hand, until they were away from the groups of people still at the beach. They found themselves near a low wall of large rocks extending naturally from the sea to the dunes. When they were sure they found a space that was well blocked from the rising wind, Trent laid his jacket on the sand for Daria to sit upon and put his arms around her when she did. They moved closer, as the wind picked up again, with Daria cradled in Trent's warm embrace. Her head lay on his chest; she found the rhythmic rise and fall of it as exhilarating as it was peaceful. The two sat in silence for a long time. Daria fiddled absentmindedly with the gold pendant Trent always wore around his neck. Trent stroked Daria's thick, auburn brown hair. He found the scent of her shampoo intoxicating.

Daria tilted her head up slowly in surprise, when Trent kissed her atop of her head. His hand that was in her hair glided down to her face, lightly grazing the contours of her cheek, jawline, and chin. Her hand moved to his shoulder, when he kissed her once, then up his neck as he kissed her endlessly. Trent eventually pulled himself away from her, his breath ragged. His ran a hand through his jet black hair, then hid his face, putting his forehead to her inner shoulder, as his hand fell to her hip. The hand that cradled her pulled her closer yet to him, though he could not face her. Daria's eyes and smile had softened over the years, and he could only surrender to them in the moonlight, especially to her glistening blue eyes.

After some time had passed, it was Daria's turn to pull away, however reluctant she was to leave Trent's embrace. They walked the long short walk to his car, the silence and the heat thick and intimate, despite the cacophony of city sounds, and its dizzying lights. When they reached her house, Daria finally understood what Trent had meant when he once said that wearing a watch depressed him.

Trent walked Daria to her doorstep, kissed her goodnight, and pressed his forehead to hers. He lingered there, holding her hands. He let go of them and removed the pendant that was around his neck. "Would you wear it?" he asked. "Please?" he begged. Daria could only nod and give a breathless, "Yes." He put it around her neck. One hand rested by her collar, the other took her hand once more. He kissed her knuckles, her palm, then her inner wrist, as if in humble worship. Daria removed her hand to touch his cheek and smiled at him when his eyes met hers. It was all she needed.


	14. Chapter 14

**CHAPTER XIV**

Quinn tapped her foot, as she sat at the breakfast table, and clicked the pen she was using on and off with angry impatience. "Ugh!" she exclaimed, throwing the pen down, rolling her eyes when it bounced off the table into the English ivy plant behind it. "Stupid freakin' wait," she muttered as she walked purposefully through the house. "I'm only freakin' human. How much more waiting can one freakin' girl take? Even a girl as cute as me…"

"DARIA!" she yelled, swinging her sister's door open.

"That's a hippie name," she replied, barely turning away from her computer screen. "You mean Miss Darlene." Quinn walked towards her sister and crossed her arms. Dara's eyes darted briefly in her sister's direction. She hoped against reason that Quinn cared enough about her body language not to ask questions.

"So?!" she asked, trying to draw her sister's attention away from her Gateway desktop. "So _what happened_ last night?! Daria, I need details."

"Quinn, you read _Pride and Prejudice_ at some point in high school, right?" Daria asked, still focused on her computer screen.

"Part of it, but I _had_ to read the whole thing after seeing that movie," said Quinn, thinking dreamily of Matthew MacFayden. Coming out of her fantasy, she asked, "But what's _that_ got to do with anything?"

"Remember how disappointed you were when you got to the final marriage proposal at the end, hoping for a hot night in Regency England, only to get almost _no information_ about what Darcy said to Elizabeth, other than that Elizabeth said yes to his proposal? Get ready for Round Two of that."

"Daria, _come on,_ we're _sisters_ ," Quinn pleaded to a conscience she wasn't completely sure was there.

"Sorry, Quinn. Some things are just meant to remain between two people. Now if you'll excuse me, Melody Powers is about to have a similar experience. The U.S. wants to know how her lover Tonio died, but she and the Kremlin think that's just too intimate to share."

"Intimate?" asked Quinn blankly. " _Eww!_ I don't need to-to picture… _that!_ "

"What?" asked Daria, finally turning her chair in Quinn's direction. "That's not-"

"Ha!" Quinn said, putting her hands on each armrest, and pulling Daria's chair towards her bed, where Quinn sat down. "Spill it."

"I thought you didn't care what 'couple people' do?" asked Daria, crossing her arms.

"I don't!" said Quinn defensively. "But you're not people, you're my sister. And besides, except for maybe Jane-because, let's be honest, Daria, now that you're dating her older brother, there may only be so much you can share with her for so long-if you can't talk to _me_ about dating, who _can_ you talk to? Or would you rather I ask you in front of Mom?" she asked crossing her arms mirroring her sister. Daria's eyes narrowed, as she stared Quinn down, who was smirking in early victory. Daria sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. She answered Quinn's questions with great reluctance, remaining as taciturn as possible, in part to annoy her sister and to maintain her lifelong quest for privacy. "Last question" said Quinn finally. "You don't normally wear jewelry. Is that his?" she said, pointing to the pendant around Daria's neck. Daria's eye widened, as her cheeks flushed bright red; she clenched her fist around the object in a small panic, praying Quinn still hadn't developed a sense of object permanence.

"I knew it," said Quinn quietly. The smile on her face made Daria supremely uncomfortable. "Can I see it?" Daria held up the pendant in her palm for Quinn to see. They both gazed inquisitively at the indigenous art carved into the gold, extending from the Sun placed in the very center of the piece. "What is it?"

"I'm not sure," replied Daria. "If it were anything else, I would be tempted to say that he got it out of a magazine, but the patterns are too intricate, and there's no production inscription on it."

"Hmm, well, it must mean something to him, if he asked you to wear it... Oh, Daria!"

"Aghh!" Daria exclaimed at the unexpected hug. "Too close!" she said. "Too close!"

"Please, I can still smell him on you," said Quinn as she stepped away. She decided to be kind and leave. As she walked towards the door she said, "I'm gonna go get ready for my study group. Enjoy your Kremlin forest, or whatever. Bye!"

But Daria couldn't enjoy her Kremlin forest, or whatever. It was still early enough that her parents could still be asleep. The third degree from two more people would be bad enough without the possibility of circumstantial evidence giving her away. She hoped she had time for a shower.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Hello, Readers! I just wanted to let you know that this may be the last chapter for the rest of the month, as I'll be traveling for the next two weeks. If I'm unable to do any writing, the temporary hiatus will be over around August 6th.


	15. Chapter 15

**CHAPTER XV**

Trent strummed his fingers absentmindedly against the countertop, as he sipped his coffee and read the morning paper. He cringed as he listened to the vocal lesson occurring in the other room. He put on the latest Kathleen Hanna album to distract himself and put aside some other CD's to play later in the day. When Trent's coffee turned cold and bitter, he picked up the phone to call his late appointment. On the third ring, he saw a large pair of glasses under a hood and put down the phone.

"Hey, Link," said Trent. "Glad you showed."

Link wiped off his lenses, wet from the pouring rain. "Whatever," he mumbled. "Here's the check for today's lesson," he said, handing Trent a damp white envelope. "Let's just get started."

As the lesson progressed, Link became more and more frustrated. "Damn it!" he said, adjusting the tuners of his guitar. "Why won't this thing stay in tune?"

"It's your strings, man," Trent replied. "How long has it been since you last got them changed?"

"Um, a year? Maybe two."

"Yeah, long past overdue," said Trent. "Let me see." Link handed Trent his bass. When Trent was done examining the instrument, he said, "I can ring you up for some new strings to hold you over for a while, but the bridge is loose. You're gonna need that repaired soon." Trent handed Link a business card. "Call them up. They'll give you a good deal, since you take lessons here."

"How much is _this deal_ gonna cost?" asked Link, squinting his eyes in annoyance.

"Depending on the work that needs to be done, I'd say around a hundred bucks," said Trent. "I know that's pretty steep for a kid your age-" Link glared. "Fine," continued Trent, "it's steep for me, too, sometimes, but it's still a lot cheaper than what most places would charge you for." Link sighed. "Where am I supposed to get that kind of money?"

"Do you have a work permit?" asked Trent. He cringed. "I can't believe I just asked something like that…" he said, putting a hand to his temple.

"Uh, no. Not for another two years."

"Bummer," said Trent. "Do you think you could work out a deal with your parents?"

"With my mom?" asked Link. "Yeah, right. She's too busy jetting off with her new lousy husband to pay any kind of attention to me, unless it's to complain just how alike I am to my lousy father, wherever he is." Trent remained silent.

There was a knock on the door. "Trent, your next appointment's here," called his boss.

"Sure, Cubby, be right with'em."

Link packed up in a hurry. "I'll see you when I see you, Trent. Thanks for the strings," he said, handing Trent a few dollars. Trent blinked, and Link was gone. Trent slumped over his guitar with a sigh. He shook out his sore hands and grimaced as he touched his calloused fingers. What did she think when she touched them? He wondered. The AC was turned on high, despite the cold rainy weather. Trent put on his jacket and inhaled deeply. It still smelled of the sea and of Daria. He rang up Link's purchase and let his last appointment in.


	16. Chapter 16

**CHAPTER XVI**

" _Quinn!_ Your _date_ is here _!"_ Jake called across the house.

"Date? Where? I can take him!" said Jamie, looking around frantically.

"Uh…"

"Daddy, I _told_ you," said Quinn, coming down the stairs and putting on a light jacket, "Jamie and I are just going out to study."

"Oh, _sure_ ," said Jake, using air quotes. "'Studying'" he said, without air quotes. "Like I haven't heard _that_ one a million times." Turning to Jaime, he said, "It's nothing personal, you see. I actually like you. So there's no need to pull the wool over the eyes of dear ol' Dad, right, kiddo?"

"Oh my god," muttered Quinn. "Come on, Jamie, let's go. Bye!"

"Those crazy kids," said Jake, waving after them. "Ah, youth… To be unplagued by the pressures of the draft... _They_ didn't go to military school, no sir! Oh, _sure_ ," he said, using air quotes, "Congress still makes our country's sons register, but at least for now Jamie's got a choice! Damn it, he won't fall for your trap, old man! And not _your_ WMD lies! He's no draft dodger! He's a conscientious objector! Damn it!"

"Jakey, who are you talking to?" asked Helen, avoiding Jake's flailing arms as she returned home from the office.

"That lousy son of a-"

"Jakey," said Helen, "neither your father nor George W. Bush are here. They can't hear you. And they can't hear you no matter how loudly you yell at the TV. Or the sky in this case..."

"Right, right," said Jake, calming himself. "Thanks, honey." He straightened his suit.

"Of course, dear," Helen replied, kissing her husband on the cheek. "So, I take it Quinn's out on a date with Jamie? I hope she doesn't think she's just going to spend the summer going out on dates, because I _told_ her that if she was _really_ serious about that program, she would need to buckle down and focus on her studies, not boys."

"She said," Jake began, using air quotes, "that she and Jamie were going out to study."

"Hm, well, alright. As long as she makes curfew, I guess it's okay."

"Quinn still has a curfew?"

" _Jake,_ of _course_ she still has a curfew."

"But, honey, Quinn's twenty-years-old. Don't you think she's a bit too old for that?" Jake huddled back in fear, when Helen's eyes widened, and barely managed to squeak, "Mommy!"


	17. Chapter 17

**CHAPTER XVII**

Jamie and Quinn sat in silence, as they drove to Stacy's house. The only noise was a Guys2Guys song playing on the radio. Now that Quinn was alone with Jamie, she had a million things she wanted to tell him, but the weight of their recent conversations embarrassed her too much to express her feelings. Nor could she bring herself just yet to look at Jamie. But she couldn't bear the silence.

"So, um, for our study plan today," said Quinn, pulling out some of the loose notes from her bag, "since we just got the syllabus, I thought it would be good to first go over that, and check in with, uh, with Stacy about what she's covered at the community college. She wants to transfer into our program next year, so I think it would be good to see what she's covered, so we can better help her, since we know what the intro workload is like already. Plus, if you still have a copy of your application essay, or if I can find mine, we can brainstorm some essay ideas with her, after she's gotten a grasp of what the program's like, later this summer. And, um, before we finish up today, let's go over work schedules, too. I hear from everyone that this class is hard, and if we all study together every week, I think that would be most helpful. Not that I'm saying you _need_ my help. I mean, I already know how smart you are, Jamie, but I really like working together with you, and-"

"Quinn," interrupted Jamie, "it's okay. You don't need to explain."

"I don't?" asked Quinn. The papers fell to her lap.

"Quinn, I've been thinking a lot lately about us," said Jamie. "You're one of my best friends, and I've come to realize that we're never going to be any more than… well, just that. And I need to accept it. 'Cause if I don't, then, I'm just going to be holding you back."

"But that's not how I see it at all-" said Quinn.

"Maybe not now, but how many of your Friday nights have I taken up? We already tried going out once, and it didn't work out. You were right, I wasn't listening, 'cause if I had, I would have remembered what you told me at that party when you first moved here. Quinn, I _was_ pressuring you into something you weren't ready for."

"Jamie, _I_ chose to keep going out with you, too," said Quinn.

"Yeah," agreed Jamie, "but you didn't keep going out with me in the hopes that we might become something more than what we are, but I did." The light turned red. Jamie turned to face Quinn. "Quinn, I had always loved you. I still do. But I know now that it's time for me to move on. I can't keep getting in your way."

"But, Jamie, you're not in the way!" declared Quinn, as the light changed, feeling teary eyed. "Jamie, where is this coming from?"

"Quinn, what if instead of me on a Friday night, some other guy came to your door?" asked Jamie, his eyes set firmly on the road. "It's really easy to fall for you, Quinn. Plenty of guys would love to go out with you and have fun, but I don't want to keep sharing you with Joey or Jeffy, or anybody else, and I'm embarrassed I thought back there," he said, referring to his reaction to Mr. Morgendorffer, "that I had any sort of claim on you."

As they pulled up to Stacy's house, Quinn asked quickly, "So what does this mean? Am I not going to see you anymore?"

Jamie waved to Stacy as she came out the front door. "What? No, of course not. You're just… gonna see a little less of me, that's all."

"But what does that mean?" asked Quinn. She silenced herself and looked out the window, when Stacy opened the car door. "Hey, guys! I'm _soo_ excited for today! I just wanna say again thank you, thank you, thank you so much for helping me! You're such great friends, and I-" She sensed the tension between them and saw Quinn's face in the reflection of the side mirror. "I, uh, anyway, I hope we can get a lot done together. I've always thought you were a great team. I know we can get through this," she said with a sad but hopeful smile. When she was sure Jamie wouldn't look back at her, Stacy leaned forward and gave Quinn a gentle squeeze on the shoulder. She thought she heard Quinn gasp. Quinn lifted her hand and squeezed Stacy's hand back. Without a word Stacy understood, and without a word Quinn knew Stacy would always be there for her.


	18. Author Update

Hello, dear Readers~! Sorry for my long hiatus from "Changing Lanes." Along with the characters we know and love, I've had a ton of transitional life changes since this past summer, and didn't realize how long I let my hiatus go on ^^" I haven't forgotten about my story though and just wanted to let you know that you'll be seeing some chapter updates pretty soon. Thank you to all of you still reading, reviewing, and patiently waiting for more. It's been encouraging, and I hope to see you in the coming chapters!


	19. Chapter 18

**CHAPTER XVIII**

Stacy squinted her eyes in annoyance, as she finished her practice exam. "There," she said with determination, slamming her pencil to the table with a small thud, "finished! Um, Quinn?" The redhead was staring at a pile of papers absentmindedly, highlighting line after line of text without reason. "Quinn, if you keep that up, your homework's gonna look like a coloring book," Stacy teased.

"What?" asked Quinn, suddenly aware of her surroundings. Staring at the papers in Stacy's hand, she said, "Oh, I'm sorry, Stacy. My head was somewhere else. Did you finish the practice test? I'll check the answer key right now."

Stacy watched in silence, as Quinn graded. Although her friend was unbroken in concentration, Stacy sensed an unbearable sadness in Quinn's eyes. Quinn never told Stacy the full story about what happened between her and Jamie, but the awkwardness that passed between them was enough to disrupt the ebb and flow of their study group. Jamie came less and less, putting the blame on his summer job, until it was a rarity for him to come at all.

Stacy picked at her salad and looked out the Pizza Parlour window, watching the people go by. She grimaced and shrank herself by hunching her shoulders and blocking her face with her hand as naturally as she could manage, when she saw a sneering, slim young woman with wavy brown hair approaching. Simultaneously noticing that Quinn was grading the final page of her exam, Stacy hoped desperately that they would go unnoticed.

"Stacy, you did so much better!" said Quinn a bit too loudly for Stacy's comfort. She removed the hand resting at her temples. "You really mean it?" she asked hopefully.

"Yeah! You did ten whole points better!" Quinn replied.

"Omigosh!" cried Stacy, taking the test back from Quinn. Her eyes brightened and her smile was wider than Quinn had ever seen it before. Stacy closed her eyes and hugged the test to herself with excitement. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, Quinn! I couldn't have done this without you!"

"Of _course_ you could have, Stacy," replied Quinn with equal excitement. "That's all you right there! You keep working this hard, and I know you can transfer into the program."

"Transfer into _what_ program, may I ask?"

Stacy eyes opened wide very suddenly. She turned. "Um, I, uh," she stuttered.

"I've been helping Stacy study for a business exam," Quinn replied. "She's doing really well, Sandi."

"Thanks, Quinn," said Stacy with a small voice. She took another look at the test and gave a small smile, before the papers were ripped from her hands.

"Let me see that," said Sandi. Her eyes raced across the paper, skimming without absorbing. Stacy's pale face flushed wildly when Sandi laughed. "Well, I guess this _does_ call for celebration. Salvatore," called Sandi to the man behind the counter, "a round of fresh salads with oil and vinegar _on the side_ this time. After all, _nothing_ is too good for my friends. It's not everyday you get _ten whole more points._ "

"Thanks all the same, Sandi, but I gotta go," said Stacy.

"Stacy, wait," called Quinn, as she watched her friend rush to grab her things and go. When she saw Stacy wipe her eyes through the table window, she became angry.

" _Gee_ , Quinn, I wonder what came over her," said Sandi, sitting down in Stacy's space when the order came. Quinn squinted her eyes, as Sandi drizzled raspberry vinaigrette onto her food. "Try and do something nice for someone, and _this_ is the thanks you get."

"You didn't have to do that," said Quinn quietly.

"Ex _cuse_ me?" asked Sandi. "Perhaps I _heard_ you incorrectly. _I_ didn't do anything."

"If you call knocking down one of your best friends nothing, then I guess you're right," said Quinn, getting up from her seat. "You didn't do anything."

"And just where do you think _you're_ going?" asked Sandi, crossing her arms.

"To go find Stacy and remind her what a great job she's doing," Quinn replied, "because that's what real friends do: build each other up and help each other out."

"Of course," said Sandi. "That's _all_ you've been doing this summer: helping Stacy. Building up Stacy. Stacy needs to learn to stand on her own."

"Well, maybe she could, if you didn't berate her every time she tried," spat Quinn.

"Hey," said Sandi, "this test _proves_ she's a B at best. My rating system is more than fair. It's what she's been and always will be, so she might as well get used to it and realize her true place. Lying to her like you are with your _praise_ is just as cruel as you consider my frankness."

The two young women glared at each other. Quinn didn't say a word, as she packed up her things to leave. She had a phone call to make.


	20. Chapter 19

**CHAPTER IXX**

"So how's the writing coming along?" Jane asked Daria, who was visiting and typing away on Jane's used electric typewriter.

"Pretty good," answered Daria, "except for these damn typos. Jane, when are you going to get your computer fixed? I'm running out of Wite-Out."

"When my artwork draws the attention of a world famous gallery, rewarding me the millions of dollars of compensation my talent so clearly deserves," she replied, squinting at her glue gun in frustration as the glue oozed into a string when she pulled the device away from her piece. "Until then, maybe you should go back to typing class. I hear JumpStart Typing is _loads_ of fun."

"Thanks for the tip, but I would rather have my hands glued to this humming keyboard."

"But then you wouldn't be able to get your paws off it," said Jane, "and those are already all over my brother."

"What?" said Daria, turning her head so suddenly her neck cracked. She sighed slightly and rubbed her neck. She was completely out of the headspace needed for her story now.

"Daria, I gave you and Trent my blessing long ago. Just don't make me have to see it. All the way at the other side of the house. Way back in his room. With the door closed. And Trent's usual loud music playing. Really, Daria, I would have thought somebody like you would know to be discreet." Jane chuckled.

"Discreet about what? He was showing me a CD before going back to work."

" _And?_ " said Jane.

" _And_ nothing? Then he said goodbye." And kissed her on the cheek.

"Whatever you say, Morgendorffer…"

"Jane, come on," Daria said, turning around fully to face her best friend, "nothing happened. Trent said goodbye, you found me looking at his CDs, and then we came to your room to work on our projects, like we planned."

"So… that's really it?" asked Jane, dejected.

"That's it," Daria replied. "Why are you disappointed? Did you _want_ something to happen?"

Jane's eyes shifted. "I don't know how to answer that."

"Then don't," said Daria, hoping the flush in her cheeks didn't show. "Look, I came here to see you. Catching Trent before he left was just a coincidence. Besides," she continued, turning back to the typewriter, "even if more did happen, it would be too weird to say. You _are_ his sister, after all. I don't want to put you into the middle of anything potentially weird and awkward."

"What's so weird and awkward about it?" asked Jane, standing up. Her arms crossed. "I'm your best friend. If you can't talk to me, who can you talk to?"

Daria stopped typing and looked up at the blank wall in front of her. She flashbacked to Quinn's various ambushes over the past few days. "Point taken," she said, looking back down at the typewriter. The once soothing humming of the electric typewriter seemed louder than ever. Daria made a face when she found another typo. "But… I don't know," she said, reaching for the Wite-Out once more. "It's a little weird, isn't it?"

"It is," replied Jane, relaxing her stance, "but we'll get over it. Daria, I want you to be able to talk to me about my brother-if _you_ want to.-Sure, Trent has me, if he ever decides to grunt and slur more than a few words at a time between naps, but he also has his music and the band when he needs his guy time. I want you to feel like you have more than just your writing to rely on when you have something to say-about anything, including this."

Daria rolled another sheet of paper through the platen. "I know I have you," she said. Daria turned again to face her friend. "But, um, it is okay if it's still a little weird for me? It's all too new right now."

"Yeah, I get it," said Jane with a side smile. She stooped back to work on her art project, while Daria focused again on her writing. "But I _still_ think more went on in that room before I got there," she teased. "The sheets were a wrinkled mess."

"Jane, tell me honestly," said Daria, typing away, "when was the last time you saw the floor of Trent's room?"

"Back when Trent first moved into that room and redecorated." Jane looked up from her piece in a trance. "It's been eighty-four years," she said, "and I can still smell the fresh paint. The stereo had never been used. The sheets had never been slept in. Trent's room was called 'The Thing of Dreams,' and it was. It really was."

Daria turned and stared. "You've been exposed to Quinn and her cronies too much. I think it's time for your annual vaccination, Fido."

"Woof."


	21. Chapter 20

**CHAPTER XX**

The summer passed. After each midday peak, the thick heat, once intense and oppressive in its power, mellowed, and the passions between lovers and friends cooled each night. By the end of August, the field of wildflowers enjoyed their final spectacular blooms, before the pending wilt of autumn.

Quinn breathed in deeply, enjoying the aromas and colors of Nature's gardens, as she walked through her neighborhood park. Although it was still early, there was a chill in the air; she didn't have a sweater. All her things were packed away in suitcases, waiting to be brought back to school later in the week. She lamented the idea of not driving back with Jamie, like they usually would, and regretted how she handled their friendship this summer. After realizing that he was quite serious about establishing his absence from her and their study group, she noticed him-and the lack thereof him-more than anything. Her chest felt heavy.

Quinn sat on a nearby bench and watched the sun set. All the beautiful shades of yellow and lilac were turning to brown and navy blue, and lightning bugs illuminated the park with their brief sparks. The once sunlit trees lost their brilliance, as their shadows grew, until eventually the park was cast in a veil of near darkness. Quinn heard a familiar voice, when the first lamp flickered, casting a soft glow of light around her. She caught her breath.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, as Jamie set himself beside her.

"Just needed to clear my head," he answered. He noticed Quinn shivering slightly and put his old varsity letterman around her shoulders. Quinn thanked him and smiled when Jamie did not remove his arm from her shoulder.

They sat in silence like that for a long time, both worried one word would change everything between them.

They both chose to break the silence at once, each blushing when they realized they were talking over the other. Quinn felt a chill when Jamie removed his arm from around her, and she looked down as he twiddled his thumbs, suddenly very conscious of the desire to hold his hands in hers. "I'll go first," she said, looking straight ahead and deciding, instead, to sit on her hands until she could control what she would do with them. "First, I guess I just wanna say thank you. For helping out with Stacy. She was doing well before I called you, but afterwards she really seemed to find her stride. It was hard," she said, "to stay away from your study sessions, but I really think she'll be ready for her exam in October. So, thanks."

"It was the least I could do," Jamie replied, "especially after I fucked everything up this summer."

"Jamie, you didn't do anything like that," she said, glancing towards him. "It was all me."

"No, Quinn, you're wrong," said Jamie. He turned his body to face her. "I-I was completely selfish and out of line to say the things that I said and do the things that I did. We had our plans for school this summer, and I agreed to help out Stacy, and I completely dropped the ball on everything. I'm really sorry I bailed on you both like that."

The two stared into each other's eyes. A soft breeze passed through, tossing Quinn's hair and carrying the scent of her shampoo in Jamie's direction. Quinn thought she noticed his eyes dilate, but it was too dark to be sure. Jamie breathed heavily. Quinn chalked it up to the heat.

Quinn's cheeks burned when he touched her. Jamie had always been tender, but it was always a surprise to Quinn whenever he'd tuck her long hair behind her ears. His hand lingered at her cheek. Quinn brought her hand to his and rested it in her lap with hers on top of his.

"I missed you," she said, looking ahead, unable to meet Jamie's gaze. "I missed how things were."

Jamie sighed. "Me too, Quinn," he answered. His voice was thick with misunderstood disappointment. "Me too." He got up suddenly, startling Quinn. He offered her his hand, as she stood up from the bench. "It's getting late. I'll walk you back home. And I'll pick you up early on Saturday, so be ready to head back to school by nine." He smiled, so that Quinn would, and she did. She hugged him there in the growing moonlight, and to her all felt right between them once more, and that was enough for Jamie.


	22. Chapter 21

**CHAPTER XXI**

Jane hummed absentmindedly, as she worked on her latest art project. Classes would start back up in a few days, and Jane hoped to have her sculpture completed before leaving. She no longer smelled the spray paint fumes and let her protective surgical mask hang around her neck between sprays, uncomfortable though it was. She concentrated the paint in small sections, letting it pool and thicken. After a few sprays in various colors, Jane picked up the piece and turned it around, letting the paint globs shift and drip in all directions.

She answered her phone, still in a trance when it rang, and mumbled some greeting. "Working hard or hardly working?" asked a man's voice.

Jane looked to a camera that wasn't there. "Neither now, with a cliche line like that," she replied, putting her supplied down. She groaned when she realized how much her knees and back hurt from squatting all morning, and sat on the floor against the bed. "What's up, Marcello? How was Yucatá?"

"Completely marvellous," he replied. "You wouldn't believe how beautiful it is down there. Tell your sister thank you again for letting me stay at her place. She was a great weekend tour guide… when she wasn't calling the Mexican government for compensation on the artwork she lost in that volcano eruption."

"Don't tell me she's still harping on that."

"Alright, I won't," said Marcello. "I got you something while I was there by the way. Stop by my apartment after you've moved back into your dorm and unpacked, and I'll give it to you then. We can grab dinner afterwards."

"Well, thanks," said Jane, somewhat sheepishly. "I'll call you when I get in. You didn't have to get me anything though."

"Nonsense, I wanted to," said Marcello. "Besides, after all you did to help me pass our Mesoamerican art course way back when, it was the least I could do."

"You were a pretty pathetic artist, weren't you?" Jane teased. "Are you sure your little souvenir will be proper compensation for all the wisdom I passed on to you?"

Marcello laughed in agreement. "My stick figures had no business being there. But I do hope you like your present."

Jane half-smiled. "I'm sure I will."

"You positive about that?"

"No, I was just being polite."

"That's fair," replied Marcello. "Man, how I convinced myself that learning to _do_ the art would help me _research_ the art and the civilization it came out of for my archeology degree, I'll never understand."

"I'm more surprised you convinced the faculty at Raft to let you do some of your classes at an art school."

"Call it extra credit for Grant Writing 101."

"It may not be too late to transfer to Trump University," said Jane. "I'm sure they'd love to hear more about the art of that deal. From both in and out of the classroom."

"You know," said Marcello, "as much as I want what I'm sure will turn out to be an expensive, useless degree from a fake school, somehow I just don't think they'd care very much about ancient Mayan art and architecture from the Preclassic Period, but thanks for the advice."

"Scammers these days..."

"You said it."

The battery eventually drained on Jane's cordless house phone, and the two finalized their dinner plans. Before hanging up, Marcello said, "Hey, Jane, I really missed you this summer. I can't wait to see you."

Jane blinked at her phone, her mind feeling as stunned blank as the dull dial tone reverberating from the phone, before the battery died with a soft click. "What was that about?" she wondered, phone still in hand and staring.

"Um, should I leave you two alone?" said a monotone voice, jolting Jane back to reality.

"Huh? What, sorry," said Jane, hiding the phone behind her back and under the bed she was still sitting against. Daria made a confused face. "What's with you?"

"Nothing," said Jane, getting up from her seat, groaning again at the stiffness in her knees, "except that my body seems to have given up on me."

"It may be time to trade in your Doc Martens for Dr. Scholls," teased Daria. "But don't worry. If I ever volunteer at the nursing home again, I'll be sure to come visit you."

"You always were my favorite grandchild," answered Jane, pinching her friend's cheek. Daria grimaced and swat Jane's hand away. "Thanks, Gramma," said Daria, rubbing her cheek. "So who was that on the phone? My new grandpa?"

Jane shrugged. "Doubtful, but I guess he's as good as a contender as anybody else."

"Really?" asked Daria. "Who is he?"

"Just this guy I know from school," replied Jane. "I helped him in an art class we took last semester, and now I can't shake him off. You might know him, he goes to Raft."

"Care to narrow down the pool of eligible bachelors from a school of ten thousand?"

"Not really," said Jane, smirking. "But I'm seeing him this Saturday after I get settled in. Why don't you join us? You can tag along on our date. It'll be just like old times."

"Jane, you don't seriously think I'd pursue somebody you're interested in, do you?" Jane raised an eyebrow. " _Again_ , I mean," Daria added on, not wanting to discuss Tom. Daria sighed. "You know what I mean. If you don't want me to meet him, I won't meet him. Whatever you want is fine, Jane."

"Then for now let's just say that once you're settled in your new apartment and have carefully ostrichsized your gaggle of roommates you didn't want, I'll swing by, rescue you from their clashing personalities, and we can grab pizza."

"Sounds perfect," said Daria. "As long as you're paying, Gramma."


End file.
